


Self-Imposed and Self-Inflicted

by FreshBrains



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Brothels, Community: tfa_kink, Consensual, Dialogue Heavy, Humiliation, Light Bondage, M/M, Manipulation, Objectification, POV Kylo Ren, Post-Movie(s), Public Nudity, Self-Hatred, Sexual Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-12 07:56:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5658589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreshBrains/pseuds/FreshBrains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Using only the gentlest push of the Force, Kylo bids Hux to back off and remove his hands before he answers. “I am doing what I was called to do. I am retrieving power from darkness.”</p>
<p>Hux scoffs, unshaken by the mental intrusion. “You’re a slave whore on a backwater dirtball. You’re a disgrace.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Self-Imposed and Self-Inflicted

**Author's Note:**

> For the DW tfa_kink prompt: [I'm sure the slave bikini comes in a male variety. I'd like to see Kylo Ren, furious and humiliated, in an outfit so much like the one his mother once wore, and even worse off for that knowledge. His partner can be his captor, his savior, or something in between (someone paying to use him in a Hutt cantina, maybe?) as long as there's some part of Kylo that shamefully loves it.](http://tfa-kink.dreamwidth.org/1082.html?thread=1338170#cmt1338170)
> 
> Notes on consent: There is no non-con in this, and due to Kylo's self-inflicted misery combined with the fact that he can stop at any time he wishes, I would not say it is dub-con, either. Hux is not Kylo's captor.
> 
> **Huge spoilers** for the movie.

_This is darkness_ , Kylo thinks. Goose-bumps have broken out across his skin. _This is another kind of darkness_. It settles like tar in his veins, and as the pain of the dark side takes over, he finally relaxes his muscles.

Nar Shaddaa is a warm moon—he knew it in theory, from his schooling, but he’d never been near Nal Hutta before this. Despite the chill caused by eyes on his skin, he’s sweating, his bare chest and back glistening with moisture, and the lively music roars in his ears.

“Head up, boy,” his master growls in Huttese, even though he’s a Durosian. He still works for the Hutts. “If I’m drinking tonight, you’re earning me some _wupiupi_.”

Kylo obeys, tilting his head up so he faces the room. His hair falls back, no longer hiding his eyes. The room is thick with smoke and the stench of lager. It’s packed to the brim—mostly humanoids, but all species were represented. A Twi’lek girl with tangerine skin stands directly across from him on her own master’s chain. When she gives him a sympathetic smile, he looks away.

This is a backwater planet. This is no-man’s land; not even the Resistance would recruit on the Smuggler’s Moon. Nobody knows who he is here. Nobody knows about the fight burning him up inside, the fight that became so painful he needed to escape, to hide, to be _anywhere_ but in his own mind on that catwalk, anywhere but fighting in the snow with—

“How much?” A man walks past, hands in his pocket. He’s human and utterly repulsive, eyes wandering down Kylo’s frame.

“Ten _wupiupi_ for his mouth, thirteen for his ass,” his master says, tugging hard on Kylo’s chain.

The man tilts his head, considering, and his gaze settles on the paltry piece of leather and metal draped across Kylo’s hips. The garment, if it could even be called that, is little more than tight-knit metal chain supported by a winding leather belt hitched up on his skinny hips. Though he’s wearing wrap-style underwear beneath the metal, the loose fabric is sheer enough for anyone to see him if he turns or bends over. The rest of his body is bare, his hair loose, his skin hairless and oiled.

He feels naked just without his helmet. But _this_ , this feels like he’s been flayed to the bone.

Right as the man reaches for the pouch on his belt, a cool, familiar voice from behind Kylo says, “I’ll pay a _trugut_ for the night.”

Kylo closes his eyes, squeezes them shut tight enough to see stars. His hands curl into fists. He feeds off the feeling of shock, betrayal; he lets it fester inside himself rather than release it. It’s something he’s not always been good at.

His master scoffs. “He’s not worth a _trugut_. Trust me.” Humiliation burns down Kylo’s spine.

“Oh, I think he’s worth much more than that,” General Hux says, and tosses a coin at the master. “Now unchain him and let me take him to the back.”

Kylo’s master grunts, accepting the currency. “He’s all yours. Bring him back in one piece, First Order scum.”

Kylo wants to bite at the master’s hands as he releases Kylo from his collar, wants to Force-choke him until his skin pales and he falls to the floor. Nobody is allowed to talk about the First Order like than in his presence, in Kylo Ren’s presence, but then he tells himself that he's not Kylo Ren here—he’s Ben, _just_ Ben, a boy in chains, a naked boy sold for a fuck.

He lets himself wonder for a fleeting second what his father would think. The thought is like salt on a wound, like pounding a bruise with his fist.

“Come,” Hux says, placing a hand at the bare small of Kylo’s back. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

“How did you—“

“Not out here,” Hux says firmly. “Follow.”

The back of the cantina is dark and hazy, mulled in a mire of multi-colored scarves and drapes cordoning off cots and beds. Sounds filter through the thin material—grunts, squeals, moans. Kylo knows this place well, though he does not make the sounds himself—a simple mind trick is enough to make a customer believe they’ve been satisfied before falling asleep, leaving Kylo untouched and to his own devices.

Hux selects the cot in the corner and tugs the drapes closed, affording them a fraction of privacy. “Sit,” he says, and habit forces Kylo to obey, letting his body drop to the edge of the cot. Hux stands with his back to the drapes, facing Kylo, hands laced behind his back. “Would you like to know how I found you?”

“Phasma, I’m sure,” Kylo says dryly, knowing how adept the captain is at seeking intelligence when she puts her mind to it.

“Wrong,” Hux says, face betraying no emotion. He pulls a holopad from his inside jacket pocket and draws up an image. “You can imagine my surprise when some low-level bounty hunter sold this to some pitiful data-mag for a few credits.” The hologram is low quality, but it’s unmistakably Kylo, being led into the backrooms of the cantina by a gastropod holding his leash. “Don’t worry. I took care of her before it hit the mag.”

_I wasn’t worried_ , Kylo wants to say, but he knows Hux is being sarcastic. “So you came for me.”

“I came to retrieve the Knight who deserted our Leader,” Hux says, anger bubbling to the surface. “You _disappeared_ , Kylo Ren, you were in the snow with that girl and then you were _gone_.” He reaches down in a flash, hands gripping Kylo’s bare forearms. “What in the hell is the matter with you?”

Using only the gentlest push of the Force, Kylo bids Hux to back off and remove his hands before he answers. “I am doing what I was called to do. I am retrieving power from darkness.”

Hux scoffs, unshaken by the mental intrusion. “You’re a slave whore on a backwater dirtball. You’re a disgrace.”

“And you paid a _trugut_ for my time,” Kylo hisses, teeth bared. “So make it worthwhile before I snap your neck, _General_.” Before Hux replies, he continues. “If I wanted to, I could have this cantina in flames with everyone trapped inside at the turn of my head. I could strangle every last Hutt on this planet with my chains…” he pauses, swallowing, “like my mother before me.” He sets his steely glare on Hux. “I cannot be a Knight of Ren if the light side takes over.”

“I will take you back to Snoke,” Hux says darkly, “if it means putting you over my knee first, Kylo.”

Kylo feels that chill return, the cool trickle down the slope of his spine. “You’re not listening.”

“And you’re being _insolent_ ,” Hux snaps, catching Kylo’s chin in his hand, forcing him to look into his eyes. “You are a Knight of Ren, no matter what turmoil brews inside of you.” His anger has always been a palpable thing—it burns low and hot, right beneath the surface of his cool façade, and he only uses it when nothing else will work. But even as his teeth clench, Kylo can sense something else, something they’ve both felt before.

Kylo takes Hux’s wrists in his hands—not pulling, just holding. “You know nothing of what is fighting inside of me.” He parts his lips, just slightly, and spreads his legs, allowing Hux to take the space between them. “You cannot begin to understand why I am here.”

“I don’t want to understand,” Hux whispers, low and dark. But instead of pulling away, instead of slapping Kylo across the face like Kylo knows he wants to, he shoves Kylo onto his back on the small cot and grasps his knees, tugging his legs further apart. “I will never understand you.”

“You don’t need to understand me,” Kylo says, voice gone husky with unbidden arousal, “to be inside of me.” The atmosphere takes a shift around them—Kylo knows Hux cannot feel it, but _he_ can. The room gets even warmer than before, muggier, and the moans around them seem to escalate, the gratification reaching a fever pitch.

When Hux finally kisses him, it’s like he’s substituting it for something else—a smack, a left hook. Kylo has never been kissed like this before—can’t remember the last time he’s been kissed at _all_. When their mouths part, Kylo can taste blood trickling from his lip. Hux fists Kylo’s hair in one hand and tugs his head back so he can bite at his neck.

“Get this thing off,” Hux growls, tugging at the leather belt on Kylo’s garment. “It’s obscene.”

“It hides me well,” Kylo retorts, voice hitching as Hux’s teeth sink into the meat of his shoulder. He’ll be littered in love-bites and bruises. His master will not be happy.

The garment lands with a heavy _clink_ on the ground, and Hux swears in frustration as he unwraps Kylo’s underthings and tosses them away as well. “You will not wear that again. It is unfitting of you. Am I understood?”

“Here, I am not under your command,” Kylo says, looking Hux right in his cold eyes. His pupils are blown with arousal. “Here, I am nothing but your whore.”

“Which means,” Hux says, grasping Kylo by the hips with his gloved hands, “you are under my command in a very different way.” In one fluid motion, he flips Kylo onto his stomach and tugs his hips up, baring him. His ragged breathing catches in his throat. “You play the part well.”

Kylo’s face burns in humiliation as his body burns with arousal. He’s always prepared when he’s on the floor, body slick and ready, though he has not yet been intruded upon. He wonders what he looks like in the dim candlelight, slick all the way down to his thighs under Hux’s gaze, legs spread and back arched.

When Hux presses against his hole with one blunt finger, he’s still wearing his gloves.

Kylo can’t help the shudder that racks through his frame, can’t help but try to squirm away from the pressure. Though he’s penetrated himself in preparation, there’s no control when someone else takes the reins.

“No,” Hux says firmly, one hand still grasping Kylo’s hip hard enough to leave bruises, “be still. You’ll take this.”

Kylo could snap his neck with a wave of his hand. He could have Hux out in his ship leaving the star system in only moments, and he’d be left alone once more with only his pain. But instead, he takes a deep breath and wills himself to relax. Once he does, Hux’s finger slides into him easily, the depth of it making Kylo let out a startled groan.

“You sound just like them,” Hux says, voice a gravelly mixture of awe and disgust. He crooks his finger just right, hitting a spot that makes Kylo flush from head to toe and draw up in a coiled spring of arousal. Kylo cries out once more, his voice one of many on the lusty cacophony of the cantina.

Hux withdraws his fingers and leans down at the same time to press his lips against the notches of Kylo’s spine, grazing tender flesh with his teeth. As Kylo arches into it, Hux presses two fingers back into him, twisting them slowly, opening Kylo’s body to his own.

“You think you are ruining me,” Kylo manages, “but instead, you only make me stronger.”

“I don’t care,” Hux says, and Kylo believes him. He hears the sound of a zipper being undone on Hux’s uniform pants and leans down on his elbows, sweat-soaked forehead pressed against the musty pillow on the cot.

“Fuck me,” Kylo commands. “Claim me. Do what I have not let others do.”

Hux stills for a moment, like he’s taking in what Kylo just said, but he doesn’t stop for long. He rubs the head of his cock against Kylo’s hole, one hand spread proprietarily over the small of his back, and pushes in, slow as the trickle of blood from a wound.

“You’ve really _not_ been taken before,” Hux says, voice strangled. He pulls Kylo back into him, sheathing himself the rest of the way in Kylo’s body.

Kylo has not taken a man before—that’s a truth he cannot deny. He’s innocent in the ways of intimacy, preferring to lend his focus to heavier matters. He’s not sure how big Hux is compared to other men, or even himself for that matter, but he feels larger than possible, possessing Kylo’s body in ways that almost make Kylo panic. There’s an undercurrent of pleasure beneath the pain that Kylo tries to tamp down.

“You’ve done this to yourself,” Hux says. He pulls out almost all the way before slamming back in, wrenching a groan from deep within Kylo’s chest. “You cannot come back from this.”

“I can,” Kylo says, and is horrified to discover his eyes are damp with tears. “But _you_ cannot.” He reaches back, hand landing on Hux’s still-clothed leg, but Hux grabs his wrist and twists it behind his back. He’s immobilized, only one hand free to keep him upright, his cock hard and leaking against the cot, his body feeling raw and so impossibly full as Hux’s scent surrounds him like a cloak.

Hux does not answer. He fucks Kylo in a steady rhythm, much like a practiced march, but not without skill. Every time he angles his hips a certain way, that spot within Kylo’s body lights up like a spark, sending a spurt of fluid from the head of his cock. He realizes Hux is _trying_ to give him pleasure, trying to hit that part of him that makes him writhe, and that will not do. So Kylo wrenches his hand free and reaches back once more, grasping Hux’s hip, leaving a score of angry red lines down the tender skin.

“ _Blast_ ,” Hux grits out, and presses Kylo down onto the cot, fucking into him with hard, deep strokes. “If you’ll insist in marking me, I’ll spend the rest of the night making sure you won’t sit tomorrow.”

The humiliation flares up in Kylo’s chest, makes him even harder, makes prickles of pain burst at his nerve endings. The Force is like an electric current through his veins. He knows Hux can’t see him, so he buries his face in the cot and smiles, slow and wicked. “You have me for the night,” he says. “Do with me as you please.” At those words, Hux stills inside Kylo, muscles tense, and comes, filling Kylo with a startling but not unpleasant warmth.

As Hux catches his breath and cards his fingers through Kylo’s hair, Kylo knows that no matter what, he won’t be going back to base with Hux in the morning.


End file.
